


There is a Music to Their Voices (and a song in their souls)

by orphan_account



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Extended Metaphors, In a way, M/M, Metaphors, POV Outsider, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable." Bruce Lee</p>
<p>or </p>
<p>A poetic look into the indescribable brilliance that was John Lennon and Paul McCartney.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There is a Music to Their Voices (and a song in their souls)

**Author's Note:**

> or, I've been up for way too long and started writing metaphors about music and friendship; before realizing that I was writing about John Lennon and Paul McCartney. Kind of. And Harrison isn't actually in this, but since I was writing from Outsider POV, he seemed the best choice.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO ANYTHING I AM WRITING ABOUT, NOR AM I CLAIMING THAT ANY OF THIS (RATHER AMBIGUOUS) STUFF HAPPENED. No disrespect is intended to any of the amazing people involved with the Beatles.
> 
> Warning/Rating: This is a purely G-rated story, except for one bad word. If you just CANNOT stand the f-bomb being dropped once, then do not read this story.

There is a music to their voices, a fire alight within their words.

They are musicians to be sure. No one could ever doubt that-they are soul and beat and rock incarnate. But melodies you see played out in front of you are not the melodies of the stage; they are not even the melodies of sound. You have no idea how to describe the inferno of conviction, the supernovas that are trapped within their bloodstream.

It's not that you're not an eloquent guy. You like to think of yourself as pretty smooth and savvy.

It's just that... well... they're _them_.

Paul once said that you ain't written any poetry, but that's really the only way that you can think of to describe what he and John have. Because it's _not_ linear, it doesn't follow any rules, and it's completely and utterly _them,_ the unfathomable bastards.

 

_Looking up to find yourself face to face with a star- a glowing ball of plasma and light and sheer utter brilliance; then blinking to realize that nothing in your life can ever be as perfectly imperfect, as rightly wrong, as complete, as a single flawed ray from that sun. That sun that now encompasses your thoughts and you cannot escape the shadow it casts on your life- not that you necessarily want to. Because even if it dulls your own life in comparison, it's still the most vibrant thing that you have ever come across. You want to hold it in your hands, but it is too big, too bright, too brutal to be contained by anything except each other._

_Because this beautiful brilliance composed of the wistful sighs of a dying song is nothing more than the way these two move around each other- gravitating and fluctuating. They are both suns in their own right, yet they maneuver around the each other like the other is the center of the universe. The music they create sets fire to the world, yet the music that evolves between them rarely sang-it whispered and hummed like a child too shy to speak out loud-_

_Until-_

Until-

_It bloomed, coming to a cusp where you can almost see the stardust clinging to their notes and octaves, in a melody they are not aware of making._

_They come together in explosions, in an apocalypse borne of the burn of of their beat, their rhythm. Their silent melody shifts from the simple thing it was before into a golden smoke that might as well be a phantom-for you can never hope to comprehend the connection that they share._

_You are not sure how to classify them-their relation molded through wildfire might be burning love, or warm friendship, or freedom of familiar strangers, or extensions of the same soul_ (You distantly recall that in some myth read some time ago, there were beings that possessed such a raw fervor, that the gods grew jealous. In their rage, they split the beings in half. The beings were doomed to never find their other half and complete themselves again. And honestly, it would be just like JohnandPaul to defy natural order; not only finding their other half, but surpassing the brilliance of the beings, transcending the gods themselves in a giant FUCK YOU to the universe for ever trying to separate them.)

_You look at them and can see what the world sees. Utter brilliance and vibrancy that can steal anyone's heart. Charisma and enigma wrapped with impossibility. Reality seemed to morph around them for no other reason than that it was as charmed as everyone else. Many approach the universe that spanned JohnandPaul hoping to win one or the other. Some feel as though the succeed when they share a night (or many nights). But they don't ever actually come close to break the bond that they share, much less keep them._

_The thing is, the string of temporary lovers would never be able to stare down the sun and win; never be able to capture that plasma in their hands;never be able to tune their ears to the frequency of connected thought that flows through them; never be able to listen to Their Melody, or even play an instrument acceptable to those two- so used to each other and not some amateur wanna-be._

_No. Their song was just for them. However, you allow yourself to bask in the light from their glow for just a while longer. You think that if the situation had been different, you might have fallen in love with them-but right now, you are more in love with their love than either of them- the idea that there is someone out there who could fit within your cracks, and compliment your faults._

_But for them...? There is no one else in the world who could possibly fit them, except for them. They run on something like imagination, something like dreams or maybe spirit. It is this frightening freedom that means they can never be solid. But even when they seem to hate each other and scream and argue, there is a consistent beat that runs through their universe. A_ thump/thump/thump _of heartbeat beating in synchronicity- beating to the crackle of their very own conflagration._

_Even as their voices echo throughout the world, the song held within the inferno of their souls remains unfathomable to everyone but themselves._

 


End file.
